“Calmati, calmati. Pazienza, ah? Sto arrivando.”
Calm down, calm down. Patience. I’m coming.
A sarcastic comment was close to sliding off my tongue, but instead I lost my breath and choked back every word that came to mind. My hand came to my heart to make sure the organ still beat in my chest, but it had to, with the way the blood rushed through my veins, making my pulse race.
Her legs were the first glimpse of her that I saw. Fuck me, her legs were fine. The finest legs I’d ever seen. Her ankles too. The shape of them—perfetto.
As she moved lower, in slow motion, I saw hundreds of crushed onyx pieces that had been sewed onto black sheer material, catching the soft light in the palazzo and making them dance.
I met her at the edge of the steps, the full effect of her all mine to absorb, to remember.
As I took in more of the gown, her cheeks flushed with the heat of my stare.
The front of the gown came down into a dangerously low V, as did the back, and the rest was sheer black, even the long sleeves, except for the thousands of onyx pieces creating sparks against the light.
It seemed like one of her leotards had been put on first, though I knew it had probably been made into the dress. I wasn’t sure what else to call it, but her body was on total display.
“Così?” She smiled at me, her crimson lips making her teeth seem even whiter. Her eyes were so feline, and tonight, they seemed closer to a lighter shade of green tourmaline.
I reached out and touched a strand of her hair, as bright as the candles burning around us, and her perfume drifted past me. Something different. More sensual but still subtle. Just enough to tease me, making me want more. Any more would be too much, and the sense of intrigue would be drowned out by the boldness of it.
She was fully aware of her body and what it called for—how to call to me.
“You’re asking me what I think,” I said in Italian.
She laughed softly, turning her head some. “Yes, I am.”
I turned her head back towards mine, making her look at me. “What do my eyes tell you?” I said in Italian.
She sighed, her cool breath washing over me. She blinked once or twice, her lashes long and jet black. “It would be unladylike for me to repeat the words.”
I laughed, loud and boisterous. “Then you know, ah?” I raised my eyebrows at her. “You look beautiful, Scarlett. No, ‘beautiful’ pales. I wish there was a word to describe it. To describe you in my eyes. There never is, though, when I search for the perfect one.”
“Grazie,” she whispered, caressing my face. “That was the perfect compliment.”
“‘Speechless’ should be a compliment in any language.” I leaned into her embrace and kissed her palm. “Grazie per essere mia.”
“Sempre,” she said, leaning in to kiss me. “Now, what domyeyes tell you?”
“I can’t repeat the words in front of a lady,” I said, bowing to her.
She threw back her head and laughed, the sound echoing through the sprawling estate.
Taking her hand, our rings clinking, I led her through the estate. No matter which hand I took, one of my rings decorated her third fingers.
Her hand squeezed mine, her fingers chilled. “Do remember that later, ah?” Her voice took on a proper edge. “My gentleman.”
As we stepped out into the cool night’s air, my gaze roved over her again. “It’s sheer.” Since the shock had worn off, reality had started to settle in. “The front is dangerous.Troppo pericoloso.”
Looking down, she shook her head. “I’m secured in fine, Brando. The gown had to be adjusted to accommodate—” she motioned to her breasts “—and this is no more revealing than some of my ballet costumes.”
“You’re not preforming tonight,” I reminded her, moving us forward.
“Is thatnotwhat I’m doing?”
We were at another standstill, the gondolier looking on, staring at her.
She was ahead of me in thought.
